Gibbon, Nebraska (Published in Denver, CO!)

This was written while on the road today. More will come from Denver tomorrow. Well a lot has happened in the past two days, and by the time we reach Denver, we’ll have traveled over 1000 miles in the 2 days! Let’s start back in Chicago on Wednesday (seems like forever ago!).

We walked all the way up Clark Street through Wrigleyville to Wrigley Stadium to find out that the Cubs game, of course, was sold out for the night. We were a bit bummed, but we went into a local bar, The Central, had a few cheap beers and caught the game against the Reds, which turned out to be rather uneventful anyway. Wrigleyville is an awesome part of town, with a million young people—and every girl in Chicago was good looking—and a million bars to choose from, and everyone is just out there having a good time routing for their team.

After we had had enough of watching the game on TV, we decided to walk back to our hotel to find out about the comedy group Second City. On our way, we were approached by a guy in a van who was drinking Old Style and playing his guitar. He said, “Guys, you have two options: Give a dollar or take a dollar.” Looking at the little box filled with dollars on the sidewalk, I was intrigued. So I went back and asked him why the two options. His response: “Well, if you needed the dollar, I’d understand and you could take it. But, looking at how you’re dressed, it seems you don’t really need the dollar, so if you took it, you’d be an asshole. But, who am I to judge? I’m just trying to get to a peace rally in Washington, D.C.” We asked this Portland, Oregon native, caught in the middle of the country trying to get across just like we were, to play us some blues and dropped a couple of dollars in his bin. Always support someone going cross country because they will certainly come across some struggles.

Second City, the comedy troupe home to Steve Carell, Stephen Colbert, Fred Willard, Eugene Levy, Bill Murray, Chris Farley and countless others, was hilarious. Once again, we didn’t plan ahead enough and missed their first show at 8, but we were lucky enough to catch the improvisational set at 10 for free, which I’m sure was just as funny. Definitely a must-see in Chicago.

On Thursday, we were on our way to Nebraska bright and early. The road through Illinois we had gotten used to: farmlands, occasional streams and rivers, nothing to really boast of. I do have to say that I-88 W in the Chicago suburbs is one of the worst roads in America – the construction and one lane really inspired some road rage in us. I was taken aback by the graciousness of a gas attendant in Rock Falls, Illinois who gave me a free cup of coffee with my gas that would be taking us through Iowa and into Nebraska.

We eventually hopped on I-80 (yes, the same road in Newark, NJ) and crossed the magnificent Mississippi River, the artery of America. It was a monumental moment on our trip; I felt fully enveloped into the West. The countryside of Iowa was beautiful picturesque farms, scaling along rolling farmhills that were right out of every farm painting you’ve ever seen. Singing “Getting’ Jiggy Wit’ It” and “Against the Wind” on I-80 by myself (my carmates were both dozing off) was complete happiness and carefreedom. We stopped in Cedar Rapids, a small, industrial city, to donate money to the Red Cross. While we were there, it was raining, and I could see the rivers were flooded and close to the bottoms of bridges. They seemed like they could need the money, so it was good to donate.

As I switched to a backseat passenger, I watched hawks soaring in the blue Iowan sky, and I sighed and thought of all that’s surrounding me. In the center of the country, I think of Chicago, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and New York—times past, East. And Denver, Montana, Wyoming, Arizona, California—times to come, West. It is a glorious feeling of being in the heartland of this country, the roads east and west like the veins in our body pumping blood throughout in order to keep us alive.

Along the farm encrusted roads of Iowa, I was thinking back to a conversation Jeff and I had at lunch in Chicago on Wednesday. He asked me where I get my morals from. An unconventional question, yes, but one that I treasured, especially as I’m reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, which is about a cross-country trip in which the narrator is in search of values and morals. I had to answer that I attribute my morals to my entire family, from bottom to top—parents, sister, aunts, uncles, cousins & grandparents. I am extremely proud of my family and the values they’ve helped instill in me. Jeff remarked that this type of family values is rare these days, and he attributed his morals to his father, to whom he speaks very highly. Driving across a country is an excellent way to get to know geography, dialects, architecture, the different characteristics that make a country what it is, but it’s also an excellent way to find out the same characteristics about yourself and the people who travel with you, to find out what exactly makes up you and them.

We crossed over the Missouri River and into Nebraska, greeted by a welcome sign to the City of Omaha, which doesn’t have much of a downtown, pretty much what’s situated on the riverfront only. Our first stop in Nebraska was Sonic, where we had the infamous Sonic Blast. We went to Gorat’s Famous Stakes, where we had our first succulent and world-renowned Omaha Steaks, and they were extremely delicious. I felt a little out of place when there were gentlemen in the bathroom discussing their cattle and the waitress asked if we wanted more “pop.”

We arrived at our destination for the night, the Louisville Lakes State Recreation Area in Louisville, Nebraska. After setting up our tent on camping area 62, we explored the Platte River and the lakes surrounding it. I learned a life lesson here: do not wait for a bathroom at a state park in the middle of Nebraska; GO SOMEWHERE ELSE! Worst experience of the trip: going to the bathroom in the “black hole of death” in a Louisville, NE outhouse. Is that part of the rite of passage?! Despite the outhouses, this area had extremely beautiful scenery that I was actually starting to settle in and really enjoy the Nebraskan ambiance around. We collected wood for a fire, and although it took a few tries to get her going, she sparked and we had a rager right in front of us.

It felt good to put all that effort into building something and see it flourish, and fire looks magnificent when it flourishes, but like all things it must come to an end, and it did die out just about 11 at night. Sitting around our campfire that we built after exploring areas unchartered by us before was a beautiful moment, one of immense happiness (and remember, I am in search of happiness throughout the country on this trip). It was the last taste of happiness that I’d see in Nebraska.

As we settled in to sleep, so did the bugs right along with us. To try and prevent getting eaten alive, I covered myself with my sleeping bag which produced an unfathomable sweat-drenching heat. Finally at about 1, I couldn’t take it anymore and moved myself out to our one save haven, our deliverer of happiness, Rasselas (the car), where I encountered Jeff who had the same idea I did. Not long after, we were joined by Matt who also wanted shelter from the bugs. So it was Matt sprawled in the driver’s seat, Jeff in the passenger’s, and I lying across the back—And this is the same way we are traveling to Denver now. We got a few hours of sleep in eventually, after trying to block out the heat and the incessant freight train passing through at what seemed like half-hour intervals throughout the night.

Overall, I think my image of Nebraska was skewed. The people were generally affable and kind, the land we were on was beautiful, but something had been lingering ever since we crossed the Missouri—a feeling of “just getting out.” This feeling plagued us through Iowa’s long farm stretches, and lingered with us in Nebraska. This wasn’t our destination; we wanted Denver—a big city, with more fast-paced people like us. So no offense to Omaha—you were lovely—but we’re moving on to Denver (and early this morning) and you won’t be seeing me anytime too soon.